


Twilight Rewritten

by sudsybubbles



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Boundaries, Canon Rewrite, Character Development, Friendship, No Bashing, No intentional bashing I should say, Stalker Edward, Understanding, kinder bella, obsessive edward, rational bella, twilight - Freeform, who knows where this will go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudsybubbles/pseuds/sudsybubbles
Summary: This isn't the Bella you're familiar with. I'm aiming to rewrite her into a kinder, more rational, and hopefully, more multidimensional character. And to pose the question; what if Bella wasn't attracted to Edward?I'm going to stay as close to the original, especially in Edwards case, as I can until my other changes force me to take the story in a different direction. To take the training wheels off, so to speak.This will heavily focus on character development. And is also a bit of an experiment.This fic is not intended to bash the original book or characters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Any text captioned with these { } are Bella's real time thoughts, not narration.

CH 1

Mom drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a clear, cloudless blue. I wore my favorite shirt-faded blue plaid, left open over a white sleeveless top; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a rain coat. 

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this small town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and it's ever present clouds that my mother took me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down and insisted we spend the summer as a family; but, these past three summers, my dad vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead. Mom stayed in Phoenix.

It was to Forks I now sent myself-an action I took with much determination. For my dad.

To tell the truth, I didn't like Phoenix. I hated the blinding sun and the blistering heat. I disliked the crowded, sprawling city. My old school, so packed with kids that I could easily slip between the cracks where I wouldn't be noticed.

"Bella", my mom said to me. "You don't have to do this."

I've always heard that I look just like my mom, except our coloring is different; that I get from my dad. I felt a stab of regret as I looked into her loving, blue eyes. Could I really leave her, my wonderful scatterbrained mother, to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now so the bills would get paid, there would be food in the fridge, and gas in the car. She'd be fine. Mom is what people call, a free spirit; and I love that about her, but she's always had her head in the clouds. She needed someone to keep her grounded. That someone was always me, until Phil.

"I know I don't have to." I said calmly. I knew she would miss me, but Dad was the one who needed me now. Dad doesn't have anybody, well he's got some friends, but what he also needed was family. He's the opposite of Mom; he's too grounded and needs someone to remind him to relax and live a little. Since the divorce he's had no one to fill that role, till now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"Sure thing."

"I'll talk to you soon," she insisted. "Remember honey you can come home whenever you want-I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

"Don't worry Mom," I urged. "I'll be fine. I love you."

"I love you too honey." She hugged me tightly for a minute before I got on the plane, and she was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the waiting and the crowds, on the other hand, I hate. Navigating my way through busy airports filled with strangers was always stressful. 

Dad had taken my idea really well. He seemed genuinely happy that I was coming to live with him. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.

He and I are very similar; both quiet types, and both in our own heads too much. I love my dorky dad, just as much as I love my weird mom. I just wish they could still love each other. Mom meeting Phil was actually a blessing, though, since now I can stay with Dad and neither of my parents has to be alone anymore. 

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. Dad was waiting for me in the cruiser and in uniform. This was to be expected as Dad is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. He looked good, maybe a little more gray at the temples, but happy too. Dad has brown eyes like me, but his are a much warmer tone. He's also got a pretty sweet mustache. 

Dad gave me a huge hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"Hey Sweetie, it's good to see you," he said, smiling as he deftly steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"She's fine. It's good to see you too, Pop."

I only had a few bags. Most of my Arizona wardrobe wouldn't be warm enough in Forks. It all fit easily into the cruiser's trunk.

"Seat your put-belt on," he said jovially. I grinned and rolled my eyes at him, he'd been saying that since I was a kid. 

{Dad's a dork, but he's my dork.} 

"Guess what? I found you a car, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in. 

"Oh? What kind of car?" 

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Cool, where'd you get it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Native American reservation on the coast.

"Umm, no?"

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Dad prompted.

I vaguely remembered a friend of Dads who went fishing with us but couldn't picture his face. I remembered his son Jacob though, we used to play together. In my mind he was always Mr. Jacob's dad.

"Anyway, he's in a wheelchair now," he continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore and he offered to sell it to me cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his expression that this was the question he'd hoped I wouldn't ask.

"Well Billy's done a lot of great up-keep on it, it's only a few years old really."

"When did he buy it?"

"He got it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was made in the early sixties-or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Dad, I don't know anything about cars, what if it breaks down? I can't afford a mechanic..."

"Really, Bells, the thing runs great. They don't make 'em like that anymore." He assured.

{The Thing.}

{It has possibilities-as a nickname, at the very least.}

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't really compromise on.

"Well, sweetie, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming present." Dad peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

{Holy shit. Free car!} 

"Dad, you really didn't have to do that. I was going to buy myself a car, you know."

"I don't mind, I just want you to be happy here." He was looking at the road ahead as he said this. Dad was a little shy about expressing his emotions. I inherited Mom's more forth-wright manner when it came to emotions. So I leaned over and hugged him tight as I responded.

"Thanks Pop, I'm sure I'll love it."

"Well, your welcome, sweetie." He mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

After that we exchanged a few more comments about the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in comfortable silence. 

It was beautiful, of course. Everything was green; the trees, their moss-covered trunks, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. It was so different from Phoenix, like something out of a fairy tale. 

Eventually we made it to Dad's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with Mom in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only type of days their marriage had-the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never seemed to change, was my new-well, new to me-truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. I loved it. I didn't know if it could run but I could see myself in it. It had a cool retro vibe about it. Plus it was one of those solid iron deals that are practically tanks.

"Woa, Dad, I love it! Thank you!" Now my first day tomorrow would be a little less scary. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or getting dropped off in the Chief's cruiser.

"Good. I'm glad you like it." Dad said gruffly, slightly embarrassed again.

It took just one trip to get all my junk upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. It had always been my room. The only changes Dad ever made were switching out the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a second hand computer with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from Mom, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner. Everything was clean and dusted.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Dad. 

{He'll have to get used to the sight of tampons and pads. That'll be fun.}

One thing I love about Dad is, he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and settle in, a feat that would've been impossible for Mom. Sometimes it's nice to be alone.

Forks High School had a shocking total of only three hundred and fifty-seven -now fifty-eight- students; there were more than six hundred people in my junior class in Phoenix. All the kids here had grown up together; their parents -heck, even their grandparents- had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, maybe even a freak. 

Maybe if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I never did fit in there. I should be tan, sporty, maybe blonde -a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps- that would be more typical of having lived in the valley of the sun. In fact, Mom was a cheerleader. And she was tan, with strawberry blonde hair. She's still tan but now she likes to vary up her hair color. 

But instead of her coloring I got her bone structure. Like Dad, I've always been pale skinned, without the excuse of blue eyes or red hair. And while I had always been somewhat slim, I was also all flab and no muscle, definitely not an athlete. I was pretty sure I didn't have a competitive bone in my body anyway. 

On the other hand, in Forks my paleness shouldn't seem out of place. Maybe my niche had been in Forks this whole time. I was always pretty artsy; maybe there'd even be an art class at Forks High. I decided to try and keep an open mind, so as not to worry myself all night. 

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, it seemed to make the world more mysterious. Fog always brought to mind those black and white film noir productions I used to watch with Mom. It always seemed perpetually foggy in those films.

Breakfast with Dad was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him. He did seem to enjoy the quick breakfast I made for him. Simple scrambled eggs and toast, but with some shredded cheddar cheese from the fridge added to the eggs in liberal amounts. Not to mention the healthy spread of butter I put on the toast. The way he scarfed it down, I got the feeling that he usually didn't bother with more than a cup of coffee. I made a mental note to make breakfast for him more often. 

Dad left first, off to the station. After he left, I sat and examined our tiny kitchen. Nothing was changed. Mom had painted the cabinets bright yellow eighteen years ago in attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fire place in the adjoining family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Mom and Dad in Vegas, then one of all three of us in the hospital the day I was born, followed by a procession of my school pictures up to the past year's. Those were embarrassing.

It was painfully obvious, sitting there, that Dad had never gotten over Mom. It made my heart hurt. Both my parents were such kind, loving people. They both loved me so much. Why they didn't love each other, I couldn't understand. 

I didn't want to be too early for school but I couldn't sit in the house anymore. I donned my jacket and headed out into the rain. It was still just drizzling as I grabbed the house key that was always hidden under the eave by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new rain boots was going to take some getting used to. 

Inside the truck it was nice and dry. Dad had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, and peppermint; an oddly appealing combination. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected but was pleased to find. I turned it till I found something I could sing along to, stopping on what seemed to be a classic rock station. I grinned as the song, 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' came on. 

{Good way to start the day.}

Locating the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It wasn't obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. 

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided to get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain confused and frustrated. I stepped out of the toasty warm cab and half walked half jogged down the little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door and stepped inside.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warm. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a friendly-looking, red-haired woman wearing glasses. 

The red-haired woman looked up. “Can I help you?” 

“Hi. Um, I’m Isabella Swan,” I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes.

{I was expected, a topic of gossip? Small town life, I suppose.}

“Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for.

“I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school.” She brought several sheets to the counter to show me. She helpfully went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She kindly smiled at me and hoped, like Dad, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back and thanked her; knowing that, at the very least, there was one genuinely nice person at Forks High. 

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn’t draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. 

{It's going to be fine, no one's going to bite you.} 

I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck. I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. 

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black “3” was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my heart beat speed up as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. As expected, my skin wouldn’t be a standout here. 

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name—an unnerving response—and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed.

I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I’d already read these for my old school. That was comforting, I could just skim them when there was a test. I wondered if Mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. 

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me. 

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” He looked like the helpful, student council type. 

“Bella,” I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. 

{Oh boy.}

“Where’s your next class?” he asked. I had to check in my bag. 

“Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six.” There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes. 

“I’m headed toward building four, I could show you the way. I’m Eric,” he added. 

I smiled tentatively, I was feeling nervous with so many eyes on me. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” It was very helpful of him and it did take some stress off my shoulders, not having to search for my next class. 

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn’t getting paranoid. 

“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked. 

“Very.”

“It doesn’t rain much there, does it?” 

“Three or four times a year.”

“Wow, what must that be like?” he wondered. 

“Hot, dry, and bright,” I told him. 

“You don’t look very tan.” 

{ Kind of rude, but whatever.}

“I'm part albino.” 

He studied my face apprehensively, and I smiled.

"Kidding." I added.

"Oh, your face was so serious I honestly couldn't tell." He laughed.

"I'm told I have a mean resting face, which is unfortunate most of the time; but between you and me," I leaned closer and stage-whispered, "my poker face is awesome." He laughed loudly, and I could've sworn I heard a chuckle or two from the anonymous raincoats around us. I gave myself a mental high five and relaxed a little.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door.

“Well, good luck,” he said as I touched the handle. 

“Maybe we’ll have some other classes together.” He sounded hopeful. 

I smiled at him and went inside. The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have found dubious anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

{Welp, that was smooth.}

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I told them it was completely different from Phoenix, and that was why I liked it. I never needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn’t remember her name, and felt too embarrassed to ask again. I walked along and listened quietly while she gave me the scoop on teachers and classes. She was very chatty with a bubbly personality, I felt very comfortable with her.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren’t talking, and they weren’t eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren’t staring at me either, unlike most of the other students. But it was none of these things that caught my attention.

They didn’t look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big—muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair.

{Hello, beefcake.}

Another was taller, leaner, and honey blond. The last was lanky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. If the other girl was Marilyn Monroe, then she was Audrey Hepburn. 

And yet, in a way, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes—purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, angular, perfect. Weird.

They were all looking away—away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray—unopened soda, unbitten apple—and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer’s step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unmoving.

{Really weird. What is this, Village of the Damned?}

“Who are they?” I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I wasn't quite sure was Jennifer. As she looked up to see who I meant, suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest—it was as if she had called his name, and he’d looked up in involuntary response.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did. “That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.” She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the smallest boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces. His mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet it seemed like he was speaking quietly to them. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was something just, off, about them.

Old-fashioned names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here—small-town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a popular name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

“They're all, uh, insanely good-looking.” I stated in my usual tactless way. 

“Oh yeah!” Jessica agreed with another giggle. “They’re all together though—Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause some gossip. 

“Which ones are the Cullens?” I asked. “They don’t look related.”

“Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins—the blondes—and they’re foster children.”

“They look a little old for foster children.” 

“They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”

“That’s really kind of nice—for them to take care of all of them.” 

“I guess so,” Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn’t like the doctor and his wife for some reason.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat. 

“Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here. 

“No,” she said, “they just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.” 

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn’t the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard. As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullen brothers, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?” I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time on him. He doesn’t date, and he's stuck up anyway. All the Cullen's are.” She said, clearly unimpressed.

"Suits me, he's too much of a pretty-boy for my taste anyway." I said, hoping my little jab at him would cheer her a bit. It seemed to work as she glanced over at him and giggled.

"It almost seems like he heard you." She said. 

Even though I knew he couldn't have heard me from that distance, I still reflexively glanced over. His face was turned away, but it looked like his jaw was clenched; the other Cullen boy, Beefcake, was laughing about something. I looked back at Jessica to see her grinning at me and laughed nervously.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful—even Beefcake. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn’t look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I’d been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was even more shy than I was.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face—it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled. I half-smiled and whispered sorry in a small voice.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he’d given me.

I didn’t look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like the scent of my favorite shampoo. 

{Jeez, what's your deal?}

Determined not to pay him any mind I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I’d already studied. I tried to take notes anyway, but ended up doodling instead.

That class seemed to drag on longer than the others. A few minutes till the bell, I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind. At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in place, staring blankly after him. 

{What an asshole!} 

I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear of a migraine coming on. For some reason whenever I get really angry or upset it leads to an awful headache, an annoying tendency. 

“Aren’t you Isabella Swan?” a male voice asked. I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn’t think I smelled bad. 

“Bella,” I corrected him, with a smile. 

“I’m Mike.” 

“Hi, Mike.” 

“Do you need any help finding your next class?”

“I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.” 

“That’s my next class, too.” He seemed thrilled, though it wasn’t that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer—he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was one of the nicest people I’d met today. I really liked him. 

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, “So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or something? I’ve never seen him act like that.” I frowned. So I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn’t Cullen’s usual behavior.

"You saw that too?" 

"Yeah, he looked like he was in pain or something."

"I have no idea, I've never spoken to him. Though, from that interaction, you'd think he just watched me kick a puppy or something."

“He’s a weird guy.” Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. “If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you.” 

I smiled at him, blushing of course, before walking through the girls’ locker room door. That small bit of validation doing a lot to ease my irritation.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained—and inflicted—playing volleyball in the past, I felt faintly nauseated. When the final bell rang at last, I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the office, I almost groaned aloud. Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. He didn’t appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time—any other time.

I was sure this couldn't have been because of me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. Maybe he was just having a really terrible day. Maybe I remind him of an ex-girlfriend or something. It was impossible that this stranger could have such a sudden, intense hatred for me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Cullen’s back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist. 

“Never mind, then,” he said hastily in a smooth tenor voice. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help." He turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip. 

“How did your first day go, dear?” the receptionist asked maternally. 

“Fine,” I said, my voice weak. She didn’t look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield baffled by the days events. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater. I turned the key and the engine roared to life. Switching on the radio, I relaxed slightly to the sound of some 70s rock and roll, and headed back to Dad’s.


	2. Chapter 2

CH 2

The next day was better… and worse. It was better because it wasn’t raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Eric glaring at him all the while; that was weird. People didn’t look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I was getting a handle on things.

It was worse because I was tired. I'd had a nightmare that I was running from someone in the woods, then I tripped and jolted awake. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn’t raised and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn’t cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. 

Finally lunch came around. I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and saw that the younger Cullen's four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them. Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. I relaxed slightly as I listened to their easy banter.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn’t showed. Mike walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Cullen wasn’t there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell rang.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Cullen was absent. But I couldn’t get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn’t there. I decided that, whatever the cause, it was his problem; and tried to take my mind off him. 

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and sweater. I hurried from the girls’ locker room and walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed. 

Since I decided to see that Dad got at least two proper meals a day -though I did have words with him about making sure he eats a real lunch- I requested that I be assigned kitchen duty. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. So I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway.

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else’s car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. 

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds. The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task easily.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them wherever. I hoped Dad wouldn’t mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.

When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a ponytail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages. “Bella,” my mom wrote…

"Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I’m almost finished packing for Florida, but I can’t find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom."

I went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first. “Bella,” she wrote…

"Why haven’t you e-mailed me yet? Mom."

The last was from this morning.

"Isabella, If I haven’t heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I’m calling Charlie."

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun.

"Mom, calm down. I’m writing right now. Bella."

I sent that, and began again.

"Mom,  
Everything is great. Yes, it’s raining. I was waiting for something to write about. School isn’t bad, most everyone was super helpful actually. I met some nice people who sit by me at lunch. This girl Jessica is really cool. Your blouse is at the dry cleaners—you were supposed to pick it up Friday. Dad bought me a truck, can you believe it?! I love it. It’s old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me. I miss you, too. I’ll write again soon. I love you. Bells."

I had decided to skim through Wuthering Heights-the novel we were currently studying in English- when Dad came home. I’d lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

“Bella?” he called out when he heard me on the stairs.

"Hey, Pop, welcome home."

“Thanks.” He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he’d never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident. 

Dad was an awesome shot. I knew because of an old newspaper article I'd found one summer in a box of old photos. It was about Dad when he was a regular beat cop and entered some kind of city/county police marksmanship competition. He tied for first place with a near perfect score. The one time he took me to the shooting range-to teach me gun safety- I nailed the target right between the eyes. Unfortunately, I was aiming for the chest. 

“What’s for dinner?” he asked. 

“Steak and potatoes,” I answered.

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room. 

“Smells good, honey.”

“Thanks, Pop.” 

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together.

“So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?” he asked as he was taking seconds. 

“Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there’s this boy, Mike, who’s very friendly. Just about everyone was really nice and helpful, which was a weird experience since everyone back in Phoenix ignored me.” 

“That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid—nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here. As for the kids in Phoenix, well, that's just one of the disadvantages of living in a big city.” Dad, like me, hated crowds.

“Do you know the Cullen family?” I asked hesitantly.

“Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure. Dr. Cullen’s a great man.” 

“They… the kids… they're a little different. They don’t seem to fit in very well at school.” Dad surprised me by looking angry.

“People in this town,” he muttered. “Dr. Cullen is a great surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here,” he continued, shaking his head. “We’re lucky to have him. He’s an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in. I thought we might have some problems with them. But I haven’t had one speck of trouble from any of them.”

“I just noticed they kept to themselves. They’re all very good looking, but a little odd too.” I added.

“Odd how?” Charlie said.

"Well, they seem to ignore anybody but each other. But the youngest one....It was so weird Dad." Dad had stopped eating and motioned me to go on.

"I have biology with him and we sat next to each other yesterday. And he gave me this look, like he wanted to rip my head off or something. I have no idea what I could've done to piss him off so much." Dad was frowning, his bushy brows furrowed.

"What's weirder," I continued, " is that he didn't show up at all today. Oh! And yesterday in the office after class I heard him trying to get out of that class to any other time." I sat back feeling better for getting that off my chest.

"Hmm, well I'm inclined to say it's probably got nothing to do with you, sweetie." He held up a hand before I could interrupt. " But, listen to your instincts, if they tell you stay away then you ignore him. And if he makes you uncomfortable then you tell the teacher and me. Ok?" He met my eyes with an earnest look. I nodded.

"You still remember my motto?" He raised one eyebrow.

"Situational awareness." I answered automatically.

"Situational awareness." He nodded, a small grin under his dark mustache. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help my answering smile.

We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.

Cullen didn’t come back to school.

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Cullen would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Dad, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend; which worried me a bit, he should be taking some time for himself occasionally. The only hobbies he had were fishing and watching various sporting events. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote Mom a more cheerful e-mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn’t bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got…and grimaced at the thought.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn’t know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, pretty easy.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose.

“Wow,” Mike said. “It’s snowing.” I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

I stuck out my tongue trying to catch the snow on it, its something I'd seen in movies that I'd always wanted to do.

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us—in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of snow. 

“I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” I kept walking as I spoke. He just nodded, his eyes on Eric’s retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I tried not to show how satisfying I found it walking in the crunching snow and seeing my footprints left behind. It wasn't something I'd ever experienced before.

I walked to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Snow balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary, making a game out of it. Jess thought I was hilarious, and tried more than once to catch me unawares. I blocked every shot, well...except for that last one.

Mike caught up to us as we walked through the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jess were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner. And then froze where I stood. There were five people at the table.

Jess pulled on my arm. 

“Hello? Bella? What do you want?”

"Sorry. Zoned out." I mumbled as I shook myself out it and began filling my tray.

I kept my head down as I took my seat and glanced up surreptitiously. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little. They were laughing. The three boys all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Audrey and Marilyn were leaning away as Beefcake shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else.

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Beefcake the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided—flushed from the snow fight maybe—the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring at them all, trying to isolate the change.

“Bella, what are you staring at?” Jess said, her eyes following my stare. At that precise moment, Cullen's eyes flashed over to meet mine. I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn’t look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I’d seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

“Edward Cullen is staring at you,” Jess giggled in my ear. 

“He doesn’t look angry, does he?” I couldn’t help asking. 

“No,” she said, sounding confused by my question. “Should he?”

“Well, no I don't think so. I just don’t think he likes me,” I confided. 

“The Cullens don’t like anybody… well, they don’t notice anybody enough to like them. He’s still staring at you.”

“Stop looking at him,” I hissed. She snickered, but obliged. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

Mike interrupted us then—he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jess agreed enthusiastically, I noted. I wondered if she was just excited about the snow or excited because Mike was talking to her.

When we went to the door, everyone groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four. Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn’t start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the doodle I was drawing.

“Hello,” said a quiet voice.

I looked up, confused that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His face was friendly, open, with a slight smile. But his eyes were careful.

“My name is Edward Cullen,” he continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.”

I was still entirely confused about his behavior and not sure that I wanted to talk to him, so I just nodded and turned back to the front. 

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren’t supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

“Get started,” he commanded. 

“Ladies first, partner?” Cullen asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile, but something about it irked me.

“Or I could start, if you wish.” The smile faded. 

Suddenly I felt like a jerk. I didn't know the whole story; so I figured I shouldn't judge him, yet.

"It's ok, I'll go ahead. Besides, I've already done this lab so I know what I'm looking for." I hurried on, polite but cautious.

I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly.

My assessment was confident. “Prophase.”

“Do you mind if I look?” he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice cold, like he’d been holding them in a snowdrift before class. I jerked my hand back reflexively. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. “Prophase,” he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily.

“Anaphase,” he murmured, writing it down as he spoke. 

I kept my voice indifferent. “May I?” 

He smirked, which irritated me again, and pushed the microscope to me. I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it, he was right. 

“Slide three?” I held out my hand without looking at him. 

He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch my skin again. I took the most fleeting look I could manage.

“Interphase.” I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it. He took a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it while he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn’t want to spoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again. I smiled to myself, shaking my head.

I glanced up, to see Cullen was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly I identified that subtle difference in his face.

“Did you get contacts?” I asked.

He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. “No.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “I thought there was something different about your eyes.”

He shrugged, and looked away.

In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of his eyes the last time he’d glared at me. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, like butterscotch but darker. I didn’t understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts. 

{...Ok, that's odd.}

I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren’t working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers. 

“So, Edward, didn’t you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?” Mr. Banner asked. 

"That's an insulting assumption." I blurted unthinkingly. My face immediately flushed brilliant red. I pressed my lips together. 

“Bella,” Edward corrected him, smiling at me. “Actually, she identified three of the five.”

Mr. Banner looked at me; his expression was stern but I thought I could just see a small smile.

“Have you done this lab before?” he asked. 

I smiled sheepishly. “Not with onion root.” 

“Whitefish blastula?” 

“Yeah.” Mr. Banner nodded. 

“Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I guess it’s good you two are lab partners.” He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I began doodling in my notebook again.

“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” Cullen asked. I had the feeling that he was forcing himself to make small talk with me.

"Yup." I muttered quickly. I really didn't want to talk to him anymore, his smiles were smug and it was annoying me.

“So, why did you move here?” No one had asked me that—not straight out like he did, demanding.

“It’s… complicated.” 

{And none of your business.}

“I think I can keep up,” he pressed.

"I'm sure you could, but I really don't want to talk about it." I didn't look up from my notebook as I said this. 

I hated confrontation but I wasn't going to make myself uncomfortable to humor him. 

“Am I annoying you?” he asked. He sounded amused. I felt a spike of anger.

Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.

I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable. When the bell finally rang, Cullen rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. 

Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. He was always so thoughtful. 

“That was awful,” he groaned. “They all looked exactly the same." I smiled at him, he was kinda cute when he looked confused. Actually he was kinda cute all the time. I blushed at the thought, Mike seemed oblivious to my predicament.

“Cullen seemed friendly enough today,” he commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. He didn’t seem pleased about it. I felt a bit flattered and then stupid for it. He probably just didn't like Cullen.

We walked to P.E. with Mike chatting the whole way, as usual, he was on my team. He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, so my woolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up. 

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home.

Switching on the radio, I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That’s when I noticed the still, white figure. Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing. 

{Asshat.}


	3. Chapter 3

CH 3

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different. It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no noir fog veiling my window.

I slowly crawled out of bed to have a look and smiled. A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. It was practically a winter wonderland. I was struck with the sudden urge to make a snow angel. Then, I saw the ice. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid —coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. 

To say that I'm clumsy, would be an enormous understatement. I could walk across a dry, spot-less, perfectly level floor, and still trip over my own feet. Apparently, back in my toddling days, I wasn't hitting all the motor skills milestones as fast as a normal tyke should. My parents were terrified that I might possibly have serious condition. That's when I was diagnosed with developmental coordination disorder; my brain tells my body what to do, but my body doesn't always hear it correctly. It's a relatively mild case, thank God, so it doesn't disrupt my ability to function too much. Its usually most obvious in gym. Still, it's challenging enough without ice.

Dad had left for work before I got downstairs. I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some milk from the carton. I felt sort of excited to go to school, for once. Despite the ice, I was eager to see my friends and possibly have massive snow ball fight. Forks was really growing on me.

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself.

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my anxiety about falling by thinking about the obvious difference in how teenage boys responded to me here versus Phoenix. I was sure I looked exactly the same as I had there. Maybe it was just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Whatever the reason, Mike and Eric seemed to be interested in me, or maybe they were just being nice. I wasn't one hundred percent sure. I also got the feeling that Jess maybe liked Mike. 

I thought about what I would do if it turned out she did like him. I was the interloper here, he and I barely knew each other, whereas he and Jess had known each other for years. They had a history together; maybe not as a couple, but still, who knows how long she might've been carrying a torch for him. I'd be a really shitty friend if I cut in line, so to speak. It's not like we're in love or anything, my interest at least was still vague and I knew I wouldn't be hurt if he turned me down. Jess, though....

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street. When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I’d had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck—carefully holding the side for support—to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Dad had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat suddenly felt tight. Dad’s unspoken concern caught me by surprise.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

A dark blue van was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, with me between them. I didn’t even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I’d parked next to. A low curse made me aware that someone was with me. One long, white hand shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hand fitting into a deep dent in the side of the van’s body.

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the shouting began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Cullen’s low, frantic voice in my ear.

“Bella? Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine.” I tried to sit up, and realized he was holding me against the side of his body in an iron grasp. 

“Be careful,” he warned as I struggled. “I think you hit your head pretty hard.” 

I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my left ear.

“Ow,” I said, surprised. 

“That’s what I thought.” He, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter. 

{Ugh, even when he saves my life he's a jerk.}

“How in the…” I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. “How did you get over here so fast?”

“I was standing right next to you, Bella,” he said, his tone serious again.

I turned to sit up, and this time he let me, releasing his hold around my waist and sliding as far from me as he could in the limited space.

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us. 

“Don’t move,” someone instructed. 

“Get Tyler out of the van!” someone else shouted. There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward’s cold hand pushed my shoulder down. 

“Just stay put for now.”

“But it’s cold,” I complained. It surprised me when he chuckled under his breath. There was an edge to the sound.

“You weren't standing with me.” I suddenly said, and his chuckle stopped short. 

His expression turned hard. “Yes, I was.”

"You're lying," I squinted at him suspiciously, "why are you lying?"

"Please, Bella." 

"Why?" I pressed.

“Trust me,” he pleaded. 

I could hear the sirens now.

“Will you explain later?” 

“Fine,” he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

It took six EMTs and two teachers—Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp—to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I’d hit my head and probably had a concussion. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. 

Then Dad arrived, on the scene of a wreck, to the sight of his daughter being load into an ambulance via stretcher. 

“Bella!” he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.

"Shit-Dad, I'm completely fine! Don't worry, I'm alright." I tried to reassure him. 

He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. When they’d lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car’s bumper—a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward’s shoulders… as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame.…

And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother’s safety. 

I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen—a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane. Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me. 

“Bella, I’m so sorry!” 

“I’m fine, Tyler—you look awful, are you all right?” As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek. 

He ignored me. “I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong.…” He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

“Don’t worry about it; you missed me.”

“How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone.…” 

“Umm… Cullen pulled me out of the way.”

He looked confused. “Who?” 

“Edward Cullen—he was standing next to me.” 

“Cullen? I didn’t see him… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?” 

“I think so. He’s here somewhere, but they didn’t make him use a stretcher.” What had happened? There was no way to explain away what I’d seen.

They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was stuck in the ER, waiting, bombarded by Tyler’s constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored him. He kept up a remorseful mumbling.

“Is she sleeping?” a voice asked. My eyes flew open. Edward was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking. I squinted suspiciously at him.

“Hey, Edward, I’m really sorry—” Tyler began. Edward lifted a hand to stop him. 

“No blood, no foul,” he said, flashing his bright white teeth. He moved to sit on the edge of Tyler’s bed, facing me. He smirked again. 

{You are really starting to piss me off.}

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked me. 

“I'm fine, no concussion, but they won’t let me go,” I complained. “How come you aren’t strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?” 

“It’s all about who you know,” he answered. “But don’t worry, I came to spring you.”

Then a doctor walked around the corner. He was young, he was blond, and he was absurdly handsome. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Dad’s description, this had to be Dr. Cullen.

“So, Miss Swan,” Dr. Cullen said in a kind voice, “how are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine, Doc.” I said, for the last time, I hoped. 

He walked to the light-board on the wall over my head, and turned it on. 

“Your X-rays look good,” he said. 

“Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard.” 

“Not much." 

The doctor’s cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced. 

“Tender?” he asked.

"Just a little.” I’d had worse. 

I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Edward’s patronizing smile. I rolled my eyes. 

“Well, your father is in the waiting room—you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all.”

“Can’t I go back to school?” I imagined how the rumor mill would churn if I didn't let everyone see I was in one piece. 

“Maybe you should take it easy today.” He smiled gently. "“Take some Tylenol for the pain."

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” I insisted. 

“It sounds like you were extremely lucky,” Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

"Lucky, yeah." I said with a hard glance at the younger Cullen. 

Dr. Cullen then moved on to Tyler's bed and began checking his cuts. As soon as his back was turned I moved to Edward's side. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I whispered under my breath. He took a step back from me, his jaw suddenly clenched.

“Your father is waiting for you,” he said through his teeth. 

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler. “I’d like to speak with you, alone if you don’t mind,” I pressed.

He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face me.

“What do you want?” he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.

"Wow." I said flatly. I was tired of this bizarre, annoying behavior. 

He looked a bit taken aback but before he could respond I carried on. 

"Look, I don't care anymore, how you did whatever you did. Just-thank you." I spoke in a rush and then walked away without waiting for a reply. 

The waiting room was more packed than I’d feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Dad rushed to my side; I put up my hands to calm him but was pulled into a bone-creaking hug anyway. 

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I assured him, my voice muffled against his chest. I had been aggravated not two seconds ago, but as soon Dad hugged me all of that seemed to fade away. I squeezed him back and relaxed.

“What did the doctor say?” He asked, as he hesitantly released me.

“Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home.” I sighed quietly, linking arms with Dad and leaning my head against his shoulder. I felt exhausted, maybe the whole ordeal took more out of me than I'd thought. 

When we got home Dad spoke up.

“Um… you’ll need to call Renée.” He hung his head, guilty.

{Crap.}

“You told Mom.”

“Sorry.” 

I hurried to the kitchen and slumped down in the chair by the phone. I knew Mom's number by heart. I dialed quickly and waited for that tell tale click.

"Bella?! Bella, sweetie, is that you?!" She sounded frantic.

"Yes, Momma, it's me. I'm fine." It seemed as if just hearing my voice calmed her greatly.

"Oh, sweetie! Are you ok? Are you hurt?" Her voice was halting, holding back sobs.

"I'm not hurt, Momma. I'm totally fine. It was just a freak accident, but I'm ok." I spoke calmly and tried to sound as soothing and reassuring as possible.

"Ok, *sniff* good," her voice was thick with emotion," cause you're my baby girl and *sniff* and I love you..."she stopped when she couldn't speak without letting the floodgates open.

"That, I am. I love you too, Momma." I could hear quiet sniffling.

"Hey Momma, I'm pretty tired after all the fuss, I think I'm going to go to bed. Ok?" I knew Mom well, and could tell she needed some time to gather herself. Now that she knew for sure I was unharmed, she'd be fine."

"Ok, sweetie, you go get a good night's sleep." She said, her voice a bit clearer, stronger. 

"Do you want to talk to Dad? Get all the details?"

"Yes, honey. Good night. Love you." She sounded much better now.

"Night, Momma, love you too." I passed the phone to Dad, who'd been leaning against the door frame watching the conversation, and said good night. 

I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

CH 4

The month that followed the accident was uneasy and, at first, embarrassing. Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow. I tried to convince him what I wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it—especially since nothing had actually happened to me—but he remained insistent. He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table.

Cullen was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. He and his siblings sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Cullen, glanced my way anymore.

When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.

{Whatever floats your boat, dude.}

Mike, it seemed, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Cullen as completely as he ignored us.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he’d never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed.

Jess made me aware of another event looming on the horizon—she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls’ choice spring dance in two weeks. I was caught off guard, first at the fact that there was a dance in two weeks, and second that she was asking my permission. She worried about hurting me, I realized, and suddenly I felt so grateful Jess was my friend. It made my decision easy.

“Are you sure you don’t mind… you weren’t planning to ask him?” she persisted when I told her I didn’t mind in the least. 

“No, Jess, I swear I don't mind one bit. And I’m probably not going to go anyway. In fact, I'm definitely not going.” I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities anyway. It was for the best.

"You and Mike have fun." I felt my feelings for Mike shift a little. If I didn't think going would hurt my friend, then I probably would've asked him. Now, however, I found myself rooting for Jess. They were both so outgoing and energetic, they really would be good together. 

The next day, I was surprised that Jess wasn’t her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes. When it was lunch time I asked Jess to hang back with me for a second. She agreed and we went to the girls restroom where we'd have some semblance of privacy. Jess remained quiet and subdued which felt wrong. Jess was normally a bubbly ball of sunshine, fun loving and full of energy. I envied her ability to talk so easily with others, and never seem withdrawn or insecure. 

"Jess, what's wrong? You seem down." I leaned against the sink and waited. She leaned back against the stall across from me, and gazed at the floor.

"It's...it's stupid. Really, it's nothing." She looked everywhere but at me. Then I realized, maybe she asked Mike already, and maybe he said no.

{What? But Jess is awesome!}

I didn't want to press her, "Ok, but if you want to talk about it, or anything for that matter, you can always call me. Ok?" Our friendship was still so new, still fragile. I wanted her to understand that I was grateful for it, for her being so nice to me. She was my first friend in Forks, and I didn't want to ruin that. 

She finally looked up at me and nodded, a small smile on her lips. I wanted to hug her but I didn't know if she'd be ok with it, if she felt comfortable enough with me for that. 

{Why am I so awkward?}

"Um, I'm going to hug you now. Ok?" I held my arms open and stepped forward slightly, measuring her reaction. I don't know if it was the weird statement-question or the look on my face, but somehow I made her burst out laughing. And she met me halfway, hugging me back firmly. I was so relieved.

During lunch Jess sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting animatedly with me and Eric. She seemed a bit more like her usual self. Mike was unusually quiet.

Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn’t broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk.

“So,” Mike said, looking at the floor, “Jessica asked me to the spring dance.” 

“That’s great.” I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. “I know she's been wanting to ask you.” 

“Well…” He floundered as he examined my smile. “I told her I had to think about it.”

“Oh, why's that?” 

{So he didn't say no, that's good.}

His face was bright red as he looked down again. “I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me.”

{Oh. Wow. I am dense.}

"Well, Mike, I didn't know about it till yesterday. And I already made plans to go to Seattle with my dad." That last part about plans was a fib, but one small white lie wouldn't hurt.

"Oh, you can't go another weekend?" 

"I could get out of it but Dad would be dissapointed, he's been looking forward to it. And besides, dancing and me don't mix." I shrugged helplessly. "But you should go with Jess, I know she really wants to go with you." 

"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, slightly dejected, to walk back to his seat. I felt like a mega-bitch. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened my eyes.

Cullen was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes. I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away, as any normal person would. But instead he continued to stare with a strange intensity into my eyes.

Just as I was about to tell him off for blatantly staring, Mr. Banner spoke.

“Mr. Cullen?” he called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn’t heard. 

“The Krebs Cycle,” he answered, almost seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner.

When the bell rang at last, I turned to gather my things. But I was interrupted.

"Bella?" Cullen said.

I turned slowly, unwillingly. My expression was wary when I finally faced him; his expression was unreadable. He didn’t say anything.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited.

"What do you want, Cullen?" I asked with my eyes closed, it was easier not to have to see his jerk face.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.”

{Wait. Huh?}

I opened my eyes. His face was very serious. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice guarded. 

“It’s better if we’re not friends,” he explained. “Trust me.” 

My eyes narrowed. I felt like I was being jerked around.

“It’s too bad you didn’t figure that out earlier,” I drawled. “You could have saved yourself the trouble?” 

The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. 

“Trouble?” 

“Yeah, trouble. As in bothering to save my ass, since you so clearly dislike me.” He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief. When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad.

“You think I regret saving your life?” 

“I don't know, dude, I just call 'em like I see 'em." I slumped back in my chair, suddenly very tired of the whole conversation.

“You don’t know anything.” He was definitely mad.

I was too tired to be mad so I turned away, gathered my books together, and walked to the door. But of course I caught my boot on the doorjamb and dropped my books. I sighed and bent to pick them up. Suddenly Cullen was there, my books already stacked into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard.

I took them and stumbled off to Gym without looking back.

Gym was brutal. We’d moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me. It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I’d had to replace the taillights, and if I’d had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tyler’s parents had to sell their van for parts.

As I reached my truck I heard a low chuckle.

Cullen was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I ignored him as I climbed into the truck, quickly getting some music going. Starting up my deafening rig, I reversed out into the aisle. Cullen was in his car already, sliding out in front of me, cutting me off. He stopped there—to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered flipping him off but figured he'd just laugh. I looked in my rear view mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. 

While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. It was Tyler. I glanced back in my rear view mirror, confused. His car was still running, the door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway down, then gave up. 

“I’m sorry, Tyler, I’m stuck behind Cullen.” 

“Oh, I know—I just wanted to ask you something while we’re trapped here.” He grinned.

"Will you ask me to the Spring dance?" He continued in a hopeful voice.

"Well, while I applaud your clever way around the whole 'girls choice' thing," I smirked, "I'm actually going to be out of town that day."

“Yeah, Mike said that,” he admitted. 

“Then why—” He shrugged. 

“I was hoping you were just letting him down easy.”

{Ah.}

“Sorry, Tyler,” I said, “I really am going out of town.” 

“That’s cool. We still have prom.”

And before I could respond, he was walking back to his car. I could feel the dumbstruck look on my face.

{Why do boys like me now? They never did before. Got to be something in the water here.}

I looked forward to see Audrey, Marilyn, Beefcake, and the other guy all sliding into the Volvo. In his rear view mirror, Cullen’s eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, at what I didn't really know. But I had an, admittedly, narcissistic feeling that he was laughing at me. My foot itched toward the gas pedal… 

{One little bump wouldn’t hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job.}

But they were all in, and Cullen was speeding away. I drove home slowly, singing to the radio the whole way. When I got home, I was in much better spirits. I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process, and it would keep me busy. While I was simmering the onions and chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Dad or Mom.

It was Jess, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly while I stirred. She had to go, she wanted to call Ange and Lauren to tell them. 

I suggested—with casual innocence—that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a slightly standoffish girl who also sat at our lunch table, could ask Tyler; I’d heard he was still available. Jess thought that was a great idea. She then begged me to change my mind and go to the dance. I gave her my patented Seattle excuse and assured her that dancing was the last thing I wanted to do. I even ended up telling her about my disorder, she asked a few questions to clarify what it was, but once I answered them she was totally understanding about my reluctance to go.

She was so easy to talk to that sometimes I found myself telling her things I'd never told anyone. Then I'd get embarrassed and afraid that she'd judge me. But she never did. She'd just laugh and tell me something equally personal about herself. She was quickly starting to feel like a best friend.

Dad seemed suspicious when he got home and smelled green peppers. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen. 

“Pop?” I asked when he was almost done. 

“Yeah, Sweetie?” 

“Um, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday… if that’s okay?” 

"Why?" He sounded surprised.

“Well, I wanted to get a few books—the library here is pretty limited—and maybe look at some clothes.” I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Dad, I didn't have to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn’t cost me quite a bit in the gas department.

“That truck probably doesn’t get very good gas mileage,” he said, echoing my thoughts. 

“I know, I’ll stop in Montesano and Olympia—and Tacoma if I have to.” 

“Are you going all by yourself?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was suspicious I had a secret boyfriend or just worried about me going alone. 

“Yes.” 

“Seattle is a big city—you could get lost,” he fretted. 

“Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle—and I can read a map, don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

I thought about it. Honestly I wouldn't have minded too much, but there was something about long drives by myself, singing full out to the radio that I just needed sometimes.

“That’s all right, Dad, I’ll probably just be in dressing rooms all day—very boring.” 

“Well, alright." He sat frowning for a moment, then got up and left the kitchen.

"Dad?" I called, confused and suddenly worried I hurt his feelings.

He came back in carrying something small with him. It was red and black, whatever it was. Then he set it on the table in front of me. When I looked over he was back to eating like nothing happened. I was once again surprised, picking up the little can of pepper spray, at Dad's sly way of showing concern. 

"Picked it up yesterday, I thought you could use one." 

“Thanks, Pop.” I smiled at him. 

“You're welcome, sweetie." He said. Clearing his throat gruffly he continued, "Will you be back in time for the dance?”

Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were. 

“No—I don’t dance, Pop.” He, of all people, should understand that. 

He did understand. “Oh, that’s right,” he realized.

The next morning at school, I got out of the truck and fumbled my keys into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jolted upright, startled. Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.

{Jesus Christ.}

I mutely held my hand out for the keys. He smirked once again as he dropped them in my palm. I turned my back and started to walk away.

"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing stubbornly through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace.

"Leave me alone, Cullen, I'm in no mood for you today." I grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something," he chuckled, apparently not at all bothered by my cold behavior. 

With a heavy sigh, I turned to face him. "Fine. What?"

"I heard you were going to Seattle a week from Saturday, and was wondering if you wanted a ride?"

{Oh. That's unexpected.}

"What?" I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

"With you?" I asked, mystified.

He nodded slowly, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped.

I was still confused. "Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thanks for your concern." I started to walk again.

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business, Bella."

I stopped again. "Honestly, Cullen, I can't keep up with your mood swings. I thought you didn't want to be friends."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Brilliant, thanks for clearing that up for me." I started walking, again.

"It would be more...prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

I paused, my brows knitting together in confusion. "You've been trying to stay away from me?"

{What? And what?}

His eyes were intense when, ignoring my last question, he asked, "Will you go with me to Seattle?"

I didn't have to think long to know my answer. "No." I said bluntly and walked towards class. I didn't look back and he didn't try to match my pace again. I hoped that would be the end of it.


	5. Chapter 5

CH 5

 

I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started. 

“Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan,” Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone. I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound extra excited, hoping to make up for disappointing him yesterday. 

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. 

I was anxious as Jess and I entered the cafeteria; afraid of Cullen going back to more hostile glares since my, admittedly rude rejection that morning. When he wasn't at his table, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Jess chatted about her dance plans as we went through the line and found our table. Apparently Angela and Lauren had followed my suggestion to ask Eric and Tyler to the dance, and they were all going together. 

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, not realizing I'd nearly choked on my lemonade at her statement. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

"Huh, weird." I said, not looking his way.

When the bell rang I jumped up and hurriedly walked to class. I didn't wait on my friends, I was too agitated. 

Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware of both Mike and Angela shooting me curious looks as they entered. 

Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. Cullen hadn't shown up yet.

He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab coat and put them on.

"The first should be an indicator card." He went on grabbing a white card with four squares on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator-" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick, "-and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from that distance, but my stomach flipped.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting on drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick you finger with the lancet...." He grabbed Mike's hand and pricked the tip of Mike's middle finger. 

{Oh no.}

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively. I really hated needles. It was completely irrational, because they don't even hurt that much but they've always terrified me. These barely even counted as needles, and yet I still cringed at the thought of using one.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the red stained card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything but needles.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." 

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my head down on the black tabletop, sullenly waiting my turn. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers.

{Just got to grit my teeth and do it.}

"Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, sir," I said half heartedly.

"Are you feeling faint?" I spotted an out and dove for it.

"Yes, sir," I muttered, trying to sound weak.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

It was Mike who volunteered to take me to the nurse's. He put his arm around my waist and my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him on the way out. 

Mike towed me slowly across campus but when we were out of sight of building four, I stopped.

"Just let me sit down for a second, please." I sat down on the small brick barrier that lined the walkway and leaned back against one of the awning supports, to kill some time.

"Was it the blood, Bella?" Mike asked concerned. 

Mike's genuine concern gave me pause. I'd never played hookie before, so I thought I deserved to just once. But looking at Mike I felt guilty. Here I was pulling him out of class with me, wasting his time, and lying to him. Some friend I was.

I was thinking about just heading back when....

"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.

{No, not you.}

"What's wrong-is she hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping he'd go away. 

"I think she felt faint. We were doing a blood typing lab but she didn't prick her finger so I don't...."

"Bella." Cullen's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No, go away."

He chuckled. 

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but she wanted to rest."

"I'll take her the rest of the way," Cullen said. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I can..."

Suddenly the brick barrier disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Cullen had scooped me up into his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds. 

{Oh my god. This is humiliating.} 

"Cullen! Put me down or I swear I, uh...I'll throw up on you! I'll do it!" He didn't seemed perturbed by my threat.

"So you faint at the sight of blood." he asked. This seemed to entertain him.

I didn't answer and covered my face with one hand.

"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.

I don't know how he opened the door, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

"She fainted in Biology," Cullen explained.

I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Cullen was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Cullen swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

{He's enjoying this too much.}

"She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

He muffled a snicker.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed, regretting my theatrics. {Should've just womaned up and did the damn lab.}

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Uh, sometimes," I lied. Cullen coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now, dear." She told him.

"I'm supposed to stay with her; to bring her back when she's ready." He said with such assured authority that-even though she pursed her lips-the nurse didn't argue.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"Where were you? Lurking around campus instead of going to class?" I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"It's healthy to ditch every now and then." I could hear the smile in his voice as he said this. 

"I can't disagree with you there." 

"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone was odd. 

"I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious."

"Honestly- I was concerned I might have to avenge your murder."

"Where'd Mike go anyway?"

"Back to class. He really doesn't like me." He sounded pleased about that. 

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "Feeling better?"

"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. 

I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot and handed the compress back to the nurse. And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow Lee Stephens, another boy from Biology.

Cullen and I darted out of the little room and back into the front office.

Mike came through the door then. "Are you coming back to class?" He asked.

"Um," I wavered for a second as selfishness and guilt warred in my mind, "yeah, I'll be fine now." I sighed.

"That wouldn't be a good idea." Cullen said stepping forward.

"She'd just have to turn around and come right back." He said at our puzzled looks.

{Shit. Good job, Bells, this is why you shouldn't lie, cause shit like this happens.} I could've kicked myself.

"Yeah, I guess....So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While Mike spoke, he flashed a glare toward Cullen, who was leaning against the cluttered counter now, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

"Oh, yeah. Totally." 

"I'll see you in Gym then." He said, moving uncertainly towards the door.

"See you." I replied.

"Gym, right." I sighed to myself. {Now there's a class I would not feel guilty for skipping. It'd probably save the rest of my team a lot of injuries.}

"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Cullen moving to my side, but he spoke now close to my ear. "Go sit down and look pale." he muttered.

"Um, ok?" Shrugging, I sat in one of the creaking folding chairs and rested my head against the wall.

I heard Cullen speaking softly at the counter.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.

"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. So you think you could excuse her from class?" He sounded earnest, even to me. 

"Do you need to be excused too Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered.

{Damn, he's good.}

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded.

"Can you walk or do you need me to carry you again?" With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk, thanks."

He held the door for me, his smile polite, but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold fine mist that had just begun to fall, it felt nice as it washed my face.

"Thanks, for that." I said again, more sincerely, as he followed me out. I wondered why he was being so nice. Still kind of annoying, but nice.

"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

We walked on in silence. When we neared the parking lot I veered left, towards my truck. But something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, sounding incredulous. He was gripping a fist full of my jacket in one hand.

"Home, where else?" 

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" His voice was indignant. I couldn't tell if he was actually being serious.

"Condition? Please, you know I was faking. Lay off, I'm going home." I complained, trying to pull my jacket free.

"I'll have Alice drop your truck off after school." He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. I struggled not to fall backwards.

"Wait, hey, cut it out. Cullen! Let, go!" I yelled, he ignored me. "I'm serious! Stop, you asshole!" I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. When he finally freed me-I stumbled against the passenger door.

{What the fuck?!}

"What the fuck, Cullen?!"

"It's open," was all he responded with. He got in the driver's side.

"Hell no, I'm leaving. " I said, pissed off, and turned to walk away. 

Before I could take five steps I felt another yank on my jacket hood that stopped me dead in my tracks. Cullen was holding my jacket in one hand again, his face was expressionless, and he easily pulled me back to the car. Once there, he opened the door for me-still not letting go- and carefully, but firmly, pushed me into the passengers seat; he ignored my cursing all the while.

It felt like he was back in the car-closing the driver's side door-before I could blink. He quickly started the car and pulled out of the lot. 

"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?" I was fuming.

"I told you, I wasn't letting you drive in your condition." he said calmly.

"I can't believe this. This is kidnapping, you know that right?" I felt so stupid, believing he was genuinely being nice to me. 

{Was he planning this? Is this revenge for this morning?}

{Oh god, maybe he's a budding serial killer looking to graduate from animals to people.}

"Bella, calm down." His voice was calm and reasonable. "Ms. Cope knows you're with me. You're father's an experienced police officer. If I was planning something nefarious, I wouldn't leave a trail to follow." 

"I'm so reassured. Thank you." I said, flatly.

We drove along in tense silence for several minutes. I focused on the route we were taking, it was the same one I took every day, so it seemed like he was really taking me home.

Eventually he spoke again.

"How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated.

"What, why?" I asked cautiously, again confused by the random direction of his thoughts.

"You don't seem like a seventeen year old." His tone sounded reproachful.

"You are so weird." I mumbled, slightly dazed at the strangeness of it all.

"Are you frightened of me?" His face was serious.

"Well, frankly...yes." I said, watching his face.

He smiled but it didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Good."

Shaking my head, I gave up on responding. I nearly jumped when Cullen broke the silence again a few minutes later.

"We're here." He said politely. 

I quickly jumped out of the car.

"Bella."

I was about to slam the door but his tone stopped me. I scowled at him and waited.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So...try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly.

I slammed the door in his face, and practically sprinted to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible with punctuation. Especially commas, like how many can you use in one sentence before it becomes a run on sentence. Are run on sentences a bad thing? I have no clue with semi-colons.


	6. Chapter 6

CH 6

As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of The Scottish Play, I couldn't stop listening for my truck. I would've thought, even over the pounding rain, that I'd hear the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain -again- it was suddenly there. Not long after, Dad came home looking worn out. 

"Hey, sweetie." He said, as he hung up his gun belt. 

"Hey, Pop. You ok?" He plopped down on the couch and tugged off his boots.

"Yeah. Just a busy day. Another attack." He sighed.

"Attack?" I sat down on the couch beside him.

"Uhuh. A victim was found in-" Dad stopped and looked at me, as if he just noticed I was there. 

There were large dark circles under his eyes. I wondered how much sleep he'd been getting lately. Not enough from the looks of it. {Where was I when this was going on? I should've noticed.}

"But I shouldn't be talking about it." He patted my shoulder absently and turned on the TV. A rugby match was on. He settled in with a deep sigh. 

{Victim? Of what?}

Sometimes I forgot that Dads job always had the potential for danger, even in a small town like Forks. I left him to his game and went to get dinner started. I decided to make taco salad, Dad's favorite.

During dinner I debated telling Dad about the little stunt Cullen pulled earlier. He drove me home without any detours, and didn't lay a finger on me (once I was in the car, that is). But even though I made it very clear that I didn't want a ride, he forcibly dragged me into the car anyway. That just wasn't ok. But I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, and Dad seemed so drained. 

"Hey, um, Pop?" 

"Hmm?" Dad said, liberally salting a slice of tomato. 

"Um..." Dad looked up, giving me his undivided attention. I caved. 

"We did blood typing labs in biology today. There's a blood drive going on so..." I trailed off, taking an unnecessarily long drink.

"That's neat, honey." He said, casually spearing another tomato on the end of his fork. 

The conversation had started at blood types, went on to the usual topics, and somehow ended with an in depth discussion of hidden themes in The Shinning. I never knew Dad was such a big Kubrick fan. 

Friday, at my usual lunch table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in our local weatherman-who promised sun tomorrow. It was warmer today, almost sixty degrees, maybe our outing wouldn't be rain-checked again. 

That night at dinner, Dad seemed happy about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he worried about me becoming a hermit. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents names. He seemed to approve. After dinner we sat on the couch and watched The Shinning.

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my squinting eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I looked out the window to check and sure enough, there was the sun.

{Huh, I kind of missed it.}

Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle.

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there. In the parking lot I recognized Mike and Tyler. As I pulled up to their vehicles I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with Angela, Jess, and Lauren. 

"You're here!" Mike called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny, didn't I?"

"Yeah man, I told you I'd come." I called back. 

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha...unless you invited someone," Mike added.

"Nope."

Mike looked relieved.

"Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Sure thing."

"You can have shotgun," he promised. I caught sight of Jess in the back of the suburban. 

"Uh, actually I'm going to sit by Jess." I tried to look nonchalant. "Girl talk, ya know?"

"Oh, ok cool." Mike said, slightly confused. 

Eric sat up front, while I sat in the very back with Jess and Angela. Jess smiled warmly at me, and Angela leaned into my shoulder for a moment in silent greeting.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had a window seat. We'd rolled the windows down-the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it-and I tried to absorb the sights.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Dad, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while seagulls wheeled above them. 

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a pyramid shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches by Jess. Mike knelt by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the pyramid.

"You'll like this then-watch." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise.

"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the firs hadn't yet caught and then came to sit between me and Jess. She turned to him and claimed his attention. I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky, hypnotized. 

After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a kid. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. 

Most of the girls decided to stay on the beach. I quietly got up to join the hiking group. The hike wasn't too long. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and so I fell behind. Eventually I broke through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us in its way to the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the larger pools and sat there, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. 

Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to head back. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so of course I fell, twice. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.

When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shinning straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize. Food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me in interest. He looked familiar but it took me a minute to realize who it was.

"Jacob?" I asked. He grinned and came to sit by me.

He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "I'm glad to see you remember me."

"Of course I do, how I forget the time you got your head stuck in between the bars of a hand railing." I grinned. To be fair though we were very little at the time and the solution -to press his ears flat against his head- simply alluded us.

"Oh, yeah." He laughed. "I still remember the time you were so excited about actually catching a fish, that you fell out of the boat and it swam off." He said, a wry grin on his face.

"Touche." I nodded.

"So how do you like the truck?" he asked

"I love it. It runs great, man."

"Yeah, but it's slow as hell," he grinned. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No."I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned again.

"It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with a chuckle.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts." He was easy to chill with, just like when we were kids.

"I'm going to take a walk down the beach, you want to come?" I asked Jacob politely, it was feeling a little crowded now around the fire and I wanted to get up and move.

Jacob nodded and jumped up to walk with me. We made some more small talk, caught up on life events, and reminisced as we walked. When we were a good deal away I turned back to stare at the small crowd of teens sitting on the bone white wood around the blue-green flames, it was getting dark as the sun went to hide behind the clouds. 

"Kind of eery isn't." I said wistfully. Jacob looked in the direction I was facing and nodded.

"Hey, wanna hear a scary story?" he asked ominously.

As I was about to reply -that I absolutely did- I heard someone approaching. We both turned to see Mike heading our way, waving.

"Hey, there you are. Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was technically right in front of him.

"Just taking a walk, seeing the sights with Jacob here." I nodded toward the boy beside me. 

"Well," Mike paused, "we're packing up-it looks like its going to rain soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay, I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again, Bella." Jacob said smiling.

"It was. Next time Dad comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too." I promised.

"That would be cool." He smiled.

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. I weaved my way through everyone, as they milled about still chatting, and grabbed a seat in the back of the Suburban. Angela followed soon after with Eric in tow and squeezed in beside me. Everyone else piled in and Jess rode shotgun.


	7. Chapter 7

CH 7

I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I opened the window -surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in years- and breathed in the fresh air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all.

Dad was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yep," I agreed with a grin.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Dad smiled, it was easier to see the man who ran away with Mom when she was just two years older than I was now. I loved to see that carefree side to him.

I ate breakfast absent-minded, watching dust motes stirring in the sunlight streaming in the window. Dad called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. 

I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry. I parked and headed toward a picnic bench on the south side of the cafeteria. My homework was done-the product of a slow social life-so I took out my notebook and started to sketch. 

"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there doodling. Mike was coming toward me, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called waving back.

He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. 

"I never noticed before -your hair has red in it," he commented, catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze. He gently tucked it behind my ear.

"Only in the sun." I bent my head toward my notebook, slightly uncomfortable at the small gesture.

"Great day, isn't it,"

"My kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" 

"I mostly worked on my essay."

He hit his forehead with the heal of his hand. "Oh crap-that's due Thursday?"

"Wednesday."

"Crap." He frowned. "That sucks....What are you writing yours on?"

"Macbeth."

"I guess I'll have to work on it tonight," he said deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh." I was taken aback, yet again. 

"Well, we could go to dinner or something...and I could work on it later." He smiled at me hopefully.

"Mike, Jessica likes you, a lot, and she's my best friend." Mike's smile faded into a confused frown.

I stared down at my notebook as I spoke. "Give her a chance. You never know, you two might really hit it off."

He considered me closely. Finally, he nodded. I let out the breath I was holding. He smiled slightly, and got up to head to class. I realized I was about to be late and hurried to class as well, the time had crept up on me.

When I saw Jess in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I thought it was really sweet of her to include me, and a girls day did sound wonderful. I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk to Dad first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.

The rest of the day passed slowly. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another break tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

When I got home the phone rang as soon as I walked in the door. It was Jess. She had to cancel our plans. Mike had asked her out to dinner. She was elated and rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night. I was glad, and I could wait one more day for girls night.

Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour of homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the messages from Mom. I hadn't written her in a while so I decided to do that. 

"Mom,   
How are you and Phil doing? Things are good here. I went to the beach with some friends and had a good time. And it was actually sunny at the beach Saturday, and today; it felt really nice out. I have a girls night planned tomorrow with Jess! I'm going to help her, Angela, and Lauren get dresses for the dance. Which I am not going to. I know what you're thinking, but I'd rather avoid this part of the high school experience. Love you! <3 Bella"

I decided to kill an hour with some sketching. I grabbed the sketchbook and pencil off my desk and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard on the way.

Outside in our small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out just beyond the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that was still slightly damp. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, and started drawing whatever popped into my mind. 

After a few minutes the warm sun on my skin started to make me feel sleepy. I gave up on the grumpy octopus I was drawing and rolled over on my back. Letting my hair fan out above my head I closed my eyes, feeling the Sun's warmth on my skin. 

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Dad's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Pop?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.

I jumped up, a bit spooked, gathering the now-damp quilt and my sketchbook. I hurried inside to get some oil heating on the stove. Dad was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Pop, dinner's not ready yet -I fell asleep." I stifled a yawn.

"That's ok sweetie, I wanted to catch the score, anyway."

Dad and I watched COPS after dinner. It was entertaining enough, especially when you have a trained police officer there to point out all the mistakes. He seemed more rested. I leaned my head against his shoulder and nodded along at his commentary.

"Dad," I said during a commercial break, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them pick...do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber." I supplied before he could ask.

He was confused. "But your not going to the dance?"

"No, Pop, but I'm helping them find their dresses -you know, telling them if a dress looks good on them or not." I smirked at his furrowed brow.

"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You gonna be ok for dinner?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me.

"Yeah, it's a miracle you survived," I jabbed and then squealed as Dad poked my ticklish side. 

It was sunny again in the morning. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse -something I'd have worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

I arrived at school late, and barely had time to make it to class. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again but would now be smaller as Lauren had made other obligations. Due to the fact that she and I still didn't really know each other well, I wasn't too broken up about it. I was just excited to get out of town. 

After school, Jess followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside. I left a note for Dad on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet and my pepper spray from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jess. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.


	8. Chapter 8

CH 8

Jess drove faster than Dad, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush was invigorating. We listened to awesome whiny rock songs and gossiped about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled at her, glad it seemed to be working out. Angela was happy to be going to the dance, but not really that interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted. 

"Want to hear my type?" Angela sent me a relieved look.

"Of course! Tell us." Jess was very much a romantic and would no doubt make list of guys from school who met my description. Maybe that's why Angela was reluctant. 

"Ok, the short answer is tall, dark, and handsome. But, to be more specific, I like..." as I thought up my ideal image of an attractive man, an actual man suddenly came to mind.

"Oh! You know who embodies my type? The biggest Cullen brother. What's his name, Beefcake." Jess and Angela burst into giggles.

"B-Beefcake?" Jess could hardly talk for laughing. I was glad she was keeping her eyes on the road and her hands on the wheel. 

"His name is Emmett," Angela giggled.

"Yeah him!" I grinned. "What? It's pretty accurate." They both cracked up again. 

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jess and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department-store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's tourist-friendly face.

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three way mirror. I complimented them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Mom at home. I guess there was something to be said about limited choices. The dresses looked amazing on them, they were going to blow Mike and Eric's minds.

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their bags back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour-I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun-they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books. They walked off to the car chatting happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. I didn't go inside. 

Instead I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wished I looked over a map of Port Angeles before coming. I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I turned around and walked back the direction I came from.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I hugged the inside of the sidewalk to give them room, walking swiftly, looking down. 

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed. I glanced up automatically. Two of them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He took a half step toward me.

"Excuse me," I mumbled quietly. Then I quickly looked away and walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me. I bit my lip.

"Hey, wait!" One of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded the corner.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored warehouses, padlocked for the evening. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, it was deserted. I came upon it so quickly, I was sure I couldn't be that far from the main streets. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest.

I looked over my shoulder, and realized in shock that two of the four men were following quietly behind me. A chill crept down my spine as I picked up my pace. Hurrying to find the safety of the main streets. It seemed to take forever for me to get to the next corner. I kept my pace quick but steady, the men behind me falling behind with every step. Finally reaching it, I skipped around the next corner.

And skidded to a stop.

The ally was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. Lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze. They knew these streets well, I realized with dread, they had herded me into a trap.

I hugged the eastern wall then and walked even faster. Reaching in my purse I felt for my pepper spray, I'd have to go by them. 

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. 

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I hurried down the street. "We just took a little detour."

I didn't slow as I neared the two lounging men. I stuck close to the opposite wall. The thickest man shrugged away from his perch and walked out into the middle of the street, blocking my way.

I darted past him as quickly as I could but I wasn't quick enough. A hand clamped down on my arm and yanked me back into the middle of the ally. I was surround by the four of them, with the dark-haired man crowding me. 

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, I stepped away backing up to the wall. Raucous laughter started again behind him.

"Back off." I muttered, gripping the little metal spray can tightly, readying myself to use it and run. The ringleader stepped closer.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting two of them before stopping. The dark-haired man, who had jumped forward for fear of being run over, was suddenly yanked away, flying into the wall opposite me. And then Cullen was at my side scooping me up under one arm, half-dragging, half-carrying me to his shiny Volvo. Opening the passenger door, he set me in the seat, before slamming it shut. Turning back to the four men- who were scrambling with their unconscious friend-the one who'd hit the wall. He paused, staring at them, and I felt the hair on my arms stand on end. 

Swiftly, as if making a decision, he turned around and got back in the car. "Put on your seat belt." His furious voice commanded. I scrambled to do so. 

The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving out of the way as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor. I clutched the seat tightly with both hands. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without pause. His expression was murderously angry. I started to hyperventilate. 

It seemed he noticed for he slowed bit by bit until the car came to a stop. We weren't in town anymore.

"Breath." He said. He continued to stare ahead as I struggled to get my breathing under control.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" I squeaked, my throat was tight with tension. 

"Are you alright?" He didn't look at me but the fury was still plain on his face.

"You're angry." I answered instead. 

"Yes." he nearly hissed.

"...I'm scared." I whispered truthfully. My entire body was taught with fear, mostly from my run in with those thugs but a bit from Cullen's silent rage.

As soon as I said those words something seemed to shift in Cullen; it was like he suddenly remembered I was there, even though he'd just spoken to me. The anger hadn't gone, not entirely, but it took a back seat to something else. Concern maybe? He still wasn't looking at me though.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I have a hard time controlling my temper sometimes." Cullen sighed and his grip loosened on the wheel. I let my own grip on the seat relax as well.

"Bella, are you really alright?" He sounded more genuinely concerned now. "Did they hurt you?" he added in a quiet voice.

"I'm not hurt. Just rattled." My hands began to shake, though whether from cold or the adrenaline leaving my system I couldn't tell. 

"Are you cold?" he didn't wait for me to respond, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to me. He turned the heat on as I pulled the jacket on, it was cold-his jacket- like mine when I first pick it up in the morning, from the drafty hallway. I wrapped it around me and hugged my arms to my chest.

"You should eat something." He started the engine without a word and smoothly sped back toward town. 

"Jess and Angela, they'll be worried." I murmured.

We were under the street lights in no time at all, still going too fast. He parallel parked against the curb. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did...?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. He was opening my door before I could undo my seat belt. I hurried out. 

"Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

I shivered at the threat in his voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, pronounced relief on both their faces until they saw who I was standing with-and who's jacket I was wearing- at which point their expressions switched to surprise. 

"Where have you been? We were getting really worried!" Jess's voice was stressed. 

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into, Edward." I wasn't sure but I thought I saw a slight twitch in him when I said his name. 

"Bella, and I lost track of the time," he lied smoothly. "Have you ladies already eaten?" 

"Oh yes-actually we have. Sorry Bella." Angela confessed.

"Don't worry about it, I'm not that hungry anyway." I shrugged.

"You shouldn't skip meals Bella, besides I'm famished." He stepped closer and loosely held my arm. I could've slipped out the hold no problem, but I froze instead. He didn't seem to notice. 

"Jessica, if it's alright with you I can drive Bella home, that way the two of you won't have to wait while we eat." His tone was even and sounded perfectly reasonable. 

"Er...sure, I guess?" She questioned me with a look, and -not paying attention anymore- I nodded vacantly. 

"Okay, we'll see you guys tomorrow." Angela said slowly, shooting me a curious look as well. She linked arms with Jess and the two of them walked away, glancing back at us as they did.

After they were gone, Edward looked down at me and seemed to realize the state I was in. I had zoned out at some point while they were talking, and was quietly reliving what had happened not one hour ago, going over it again and again. The man yanking me back, the distance between the walls, the way Edward launched him, Edward's murderous eyes.

"Bella." Edwards voice was low and firm. I started and looked up at him. There was no hand on me anymore. He looked at me in sympathy and walked over to the restaurant. He held the door open expectantly. I looked around for a moment, only just realizing that Jess and Angela were gone.

{Jesus. So much for my situational awareness.}

"Sorry." I murmured as I walked through the door. Edward spoke to the hostess and steered me to a booth in the back. He must've ordered for me because suddenly I was drinking coke and eating ravioli like a starving woman. Edward didn't order anything for himself, despite claiming to be famished and stating one shouldn't skip meals. He merely watched me, pushed more food and soda towards me, and waited.

When I'd had two cokes and finished nearly all of my pasta, I started to think clearly again. "How did you know where to find me? How did you know I was in trouble? Why are you even in Port Angeles? How-" 

Edward held up a hand and sighed. "I wondered when we'd get to the questions."

"How?" I repeated softly. 

He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with mine.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed." He paused, seemingly to assess my face. I don't know what he saw there because for the moment I felt nothing. I felt numb, still somewhat in shock.

"It's harder than it should be-keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." He looked at me anxiously, and I realized I was frozen again. I averted my eyes.

"You can hear minds?" I asked nervously. 

"Usually. You're the one person I've never been able to hear." He sounded exasperated at this. {How convenient.} I kept my eyes on my food and ate slowly.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully -only you could find trouble in Port Angeles- and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south...and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street -to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried...but I was strangely anxious...." He was lost in thought for a moment.

"I started to drive in circles, still...Listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then-" He stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. My eyes widened and he made an effort to calm himself.

He growled low, his upper lip curling slightly back over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.

"It was very...hard -you can't imagine how hard- for me to simply take you away, and leave them...alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted quietly.

I sat very still, and quiet. I didn't know what to say and I was afraid that if I said the wrong thing he might fly into rage again. I didn't believe him for a second, not about the mind reading at least. He seemed sincere, maybe he really believed he could read minds. But that just made him more frightening. The stalking I had no choice but to accept as true, we wouldn't be sitting there otherwise. 

Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked. 

I nodded mutely and let him escort me out, seeing as I had no other ride. He walked beside me, careful not to touch me, and opened the car door.

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. "Now," he said significantly, "It's your turn."


	9. Chapter 9

CH 9

"Can I just ask one more thing?" I pleaded as he accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.

He sighed.

"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"Why were you following me?" I asked cautiously.

He clenched his jaw and kept silent for some seconds. I waited. Finally he seemed resigned and sighed. 

"I find you, interesting," he scowled at the road as he said this, like that wasn't quite what he wanted to say. "And...I get anxious...when I'm not around you." he slowly ground out. 

"Because you find me interesting?"

"It's complicated." He narrowed his eyes at the road. "There are things about you that make you, hard to ignore." 

I looked away from him, trying to process that and happened to notice the speedometer.

"Holy shit!" I shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" He was startled but the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I screamed shooting a panicked glance out the window but it was too dark to see much. I imagined the world speeding by.

"Relax, Bella." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded, my voice getting higher and higher with each word.

"We're not going to crash." He turned to smile crookedly at me.

"Keep you eyes on the road! Cullen!" I squeaked and covered my face with my hands.

He sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost." I let out the breath I was holding.

"I hate driving slow," he muttered.

"This is slow?" 

"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "It's your turn now and I want to know what your theory is." 

"My theory?" I looked at him, puzzled. 

"Yes, about me, about what you've seen." His tone suggested this should be obvious.

"I don't have one." I said. He seemed incredulous.

"You don't have one?" He asked slowly. 

"Look, you can do weird shit." I said artlessly. "I don't know why or how, and frankly, I don't want to know. It's none of my business anyway. And it's probably just better for me to keep my nose out of it." I explained, nervously turning to look at him. 

Cullen was speechless. Beyond that I couldn't tell what he was feeling.

"I'm grateful that you came to my rescue, twice now. But, just so you know, that doesn't mean I'm indebted to you, or that it's ok for you to follow me either." I watched his face carefully. His mouth set into a grim line.

"I really am grateful," I insisted again, "but I don't need a baby sitter, or a body guard. I'm not your responsibility. It's just a freak thing that so much has happened to me lately. I really doubt I'll need a savior again." I hoped he'd believe me.

He was quiet for the rest of the ride back. I didn't know what else to say, so we sat in tense, awkward silence. Sooner than I thought, though, we were pulling up to Dad's house. Relief flooded through me.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed. I shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it in the passenger's seat.

I turned to leave, my hand on the door handle when he said, "Bella?" I turned back to him, his face was close to mine.

"Sleep well," he said quietly.

He waited till I made it to the front door, and then I heard his engine quietly rev. I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Dad called from the living room. "Bella?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him, trying to keep my expression normal. He was watching a rugby game.

"You're home early."

"Am I?" I was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Yeah-it was good to have a girls night." My head was spinning as I tried to remember all the way back to the girls' night out. "They both found dresses."

"Are you okay, sweetie?" He looked at me carefully.

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking,"

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my expression must've looked like.

"Yeah, I'm just going to call Jess first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.

"Uh, yeah -but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

"Well, give her a chance to get home first."

"Right," I agreed.

I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?"

"Bella?"

"Hey, Jess, I was just about to call you."

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved.

"Yeah -hey I left my jacket in your car, could you bring it to me tomorrow?"

"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded excitedly.

"Um, how about tomorrow -in Trig?"

She caught on quickly. "Oh, is your dad there?"

"Yup."

"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" 

"Bye, Jess."

I walked up the stairs, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing. It wasn't until I was in the shower -the water too hot, burning my skin- that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move, until the hot water began to run out.

I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed for bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball, hugging myself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me. Then before I knew it, I was asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter I'm afraid. Let me know what you think.

CH 10

It was foggy and dark outside my window the next day. Sitting up in bed, I wrapped my comforter tightly around me, holding in the warmth. I stared at nothing. The house was quiet, Dad must've gone to work before I woke up. I rubbed my tired eyes, considering skipping school entirely. After all Cullen would most likely be there. 

I had a stalker, I thought numbly. A delusional stalker, who believed he could read minds; except for mine, of course. A stalker who saved me from disaster twice now, and only due to his stalking. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes again, as if confusion and anxiety were things I could wipe away. I had to tell Dad, I thought. When he comes home, I would tell him everything.

Stretching like a cat, I slowly crawled out of the warm cozy nest I'd made, breakfast was calling. I shuffled down stairs in my baggy Forks police t-shirt and holey sweat pants, my hair a rat's nest. I blindly grabbed a box of cereal out of the cabinet. Cereal was normal and normal was soothing. 

As I munched on my sugary breakfast, I heard a sound and paused. I listened again more intently. A thud, were those footsteps? Adrenaline spiking, I stood and quietly eased toward the counter that the knife block rested on and pulled one of the largest free. Knife in hand, I tip toed out of the kitchen to listen again. Nothing. All was quiet. I chewed my lip nervously and lowered the knife just a bit. Had I gotten so keyed up about stalkers, I imagined the sound to be footsteps? Maybe it was just the house settling, I told myself. 

When it remained silent for several long seconds, I took a deep breath and relaxed. Christ, I thought, I'm going crazy. 

"Bella...", a voice said. 

"JESUS!" I shouted, whipping around and thrusting the knife in front of me.

My coordination problem made itself known again, at the worst time, as I tripped and fell backwards. A freezing cold hand caught my arm and stopped me mid fall. I looked up at the intruder with eyes wide, breathing frantic, and felt my brows scrunch in confusion. 

"Ah, sorry about that," she said. "I wasn't trying to scare you. Just the opposite in fact." 

"Audrey?" I said, dumbly.

She helped me find my footing, seemingly unperturbed by the huge knife I was wielding.

"Alice, actually. Oh it's so good to finally meet you." She said, pulling me into a cold hug. 

"Woa, you do smell good." She said, quickly releasing me and stepping back again. 

"What the hell is going on here?" I said, backing away a bit. "Why are you in my house?" 

"I'm afraid that's Edward's fault." She smiled sadly. "He's bungled things so much that you were going to bring attention to him and by extension our family." 

She sat at the tiny kitchen table and gestured for me to do the same. Once I was grudgingly settled she nodded and continued.

"You see, we simply can't have any undue suspicion placed on us. It would put our family, all of our kind, in jeopardy." She said.

"Wait, hold on. Your kind? And what jeopardy? What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. 

She started to speak but paused for a few seconds, her eyes unfocused, before suddenly carrying on as if nothing odd took place. 

"We're vampires, my family and I." She said. 

I stared at her. Just then so many things made sense.


End file.
